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seemeth chief； But none is best； then join they all together； Like many
clouds consulting for foul weather。
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By this； far off she hears some huntsman holloa； A nurse's song no'er
pleas'd her babe so well： The dire imagination she did follow This sound
of hope doth labour to expel；
For now reviving joy bids her rejoice； And flatters her it is Adonis'
voice。
Whereat her tears began to turn their tide； Being prison'd in her eye；
like pearls in glass；
Yet sometimes falls an orient drop beside； Which her cheek melts； as
scorning it should pass To wash the foul face of the sluttish ground； Who
is but drunken when she seemeth drown'd。
O hard…believing love！ how strange it seems
Not to believe； and yet too credulous； Thy weal and woe are both of
them extremes； Despair and hope make thee ridiculous：
The one doth flatter thee in thoughts unlikely； In likely thoughts the
other kills thee quickly。
Now she unweaves the web that she hath wrought； Adonis lives； and
Death is not to blame；
It was not she that call'd him all to naught； Now she adds honours to
his hateful name； She clepes him king of graves； and grave for kings；
Imperious supreme of all mortal things。
'No； no；' quoth she； 'sweet Death； I did but jest； Yet pardon me； I felt a
kind of fear Whenas I met the boar； that bloody beast； Which knows no
pity； but is still severe；
Then； gentle shadow；truth I must confess I rail'd on thee； fearing
my love's decease。
'Tis not my fault： the boar provok'd my tongue； Be wreak'd on him；
invisible commander；
'Tis he； foul creature； that hath done thee wrong； I did but act； he 's
author of my slander： Grief hath two tongues： and never woman yet；
Could rule them both without ten women's wit。'
Thus hoping that Adonis is alive；
Her rash suspect sile doth extenuate； And that his beauty may the
better thrive； With Death she humbly doth insinuate；
Tells him of trophies； statues； tombs； and stories His victories； his
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triumphs； and his glories。
'O Jove！' quoth she； 'how much a fool was I； To be of such a weak and
silly mind
To wail his death who lives and must not die Till mutual overthrow of
mortal kind； For he being dead； with him is beauty slain； And； beauty dead；
black chaos comes again。
'Fie； fie； fond love！ thou art so full of fear As one with treasure laden；
hemm'd with thieves Trifles； unwitnessed with eye or ear； Thy coward
heart with false bethinking grieves。'
Even at this word she hears a merry horn Whereat she leaps that was
but late forlorn。
As falcon to the lure； away she flies； The grass stoops not； she treads
on it so light；
And in her haste unfortunately spies The foul boar's conquest on her
fair delight； Which seen； her eyes； as murder'd with the view； Like stars
asham'd of day； themselves withdrew：
Or； as the snail； whose tender horns being hit；
Shrinks backwards in his shelly cave with pain； And there； all
smother'd up； in shade doth sit； Long after fearing to creep forth again；
So； at his bloody view； her eyes are fled Into the deep dark cabills of
her head；
Where they resign their office and their light To the disposing of her
troubled brain；
Who bids them still consort with ugly night； And never wound the
heart with looks again； Who； like a king perplexed in his throne； By their
suggestion gives a deadly groan；
Whereat each tributary subject quakes； As when the wind； imprison'd
in the ground； Struggling for passage； earth's foundation shakes； Which
with cold terror doth men's minds confound。 This mutiny each part doth so
surprise l
That from their dark beds once more leap her eyes；
And； being open'd； threw unwilling light Upon the wide wound that
the boar had trench'd In his soft flank； whose wonted lily white
With purple tears； that his wound wept； was drench'd： No flower was
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nigh； no grass； herb； leaf； or weed But stole his blood and seem'd with him
to bleed。
This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth；
Over one shoulder doth she hang her head； Dumbly she passions；
franticly she doteth； She thinks he could not die； he is not dead：
Her voice is stopp'd； her joints forget to bow； Her eyes are mad that
they have wept till now。
Upon his hurt she looks so steadfastly； That her sight dazzling makes
the wound seem three； And then she reprehends her mangling eye；
That makes more gashes where no breach should be： His face seems
twain； each several limb is doubled； For oft the eye mistakes； the brain
being troubled。
'My tongue cannot express my grief for one；
And yet；' quoth she； 'behold two Adons dead！ My sighs are blown
away； my salt tears gone； Mine eyes are turn'd to fire； my heart to lead：
Heavy heart's lead； melt at mine eyes' red fire！ So shall I die by drops
of hot desire。
'Alas！ poor world； what treasure hast thou lost！ What face remains
alive that's worth the viewing？ Whose tongue is music now？ what canst
thou boast Of things long since； or anything ensuing？
The flowers are sweet； their colours fresh and trim； But true…sweet
beauty liv'd and died with him。
'Bonnet nor veil henceforth no creature wear！
Nor sun nor wind will ever strive to kiss you： Having no fair to lose；
you need not fear； The sun doth scorn you； and the wind doth hiss you：
But when Adonis liv'd； sun and sharp air
Lurk'd like two thieves； to rob him of his fair：
'And therefore would he put his bonnet on； Under whose brim the
gaudy sun would peep；
The wind would blow it off； and； being gone； Play with his locks：
then would Adonis weep； And straight； in pity of his tender years； They
both would strive who first should dry his tears。
'To see his face the lion walk'd along
Behind some hedge； because he would not fear him； To recreate
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himself when he hath sung； The tiger would be tame and gently hear him；
If he had spoke； the wolf would leave his prey； And never fright the
silly lamb that day。
'When he beheld his shadow in the brook； The fishes spread on it their
golden gills；
When he was by； the birds such pleasure took； That some would sing；
some other in their bills Would bring him mulberries and ripe…red cherries
He fed them with his sight； they him with berries。
'But this foul； grim； and urchin…spouted boar；
Whose downward eye still looketh for a grave； Ne'er saw the
beauteous livery that he wore； Witness the entertainment that he gave：
If he did see his face； why then I know He thought to kiss him； and
hath killed him so。
''Tis true； 'tis true； thus was Adonis slain： He ran upon the boar with his
sharp spear；
Who did not whet his teeth at him again； But by a kiss thought to
persuade him there； And nuzzling in his flank； the loving swine Sheath'd
unaware the tusk in his soft groin。
'Had I been tooth'd like him； I must confess； With kissing him I should
have kill'd him first； But he is dead； and never did he bless My youth with
his； the more am I accurst。'
With this she falleth in the place she stood； And stains her face with
his congealed blood。
Sho looks upon his lips； and they are pale； She takes him by the hand；
and that is cold；
She whispers in his ears a heavy tale； As if they heard the woeful
words she told； She lifts the coffer…lids that close his eyes； Where； lo！ two
lamps； burnt out； in darkness lies；
Two glasses where herself herself beheld
A thousand times； and now no more reflect； Their virtue lost； wherein
they late excell'd； And every beauty robb'd of his effect：
'Wonder of time；' quoth she； 'this is my spite； That； you being dead；
the day should yet be light。
'Since thou art dead； lo！ here I prophesy； Sorrow on love hereafter
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shall attend：
It shall be waited on with jealousy； F